They Landed Safely,
But Of The Baggage Animals One Was Sucked Under The Boat And Drowned,
And As The Others Refused To Face The Rapids, We Had To Obtain Other
Transport.
A few days later the scow, which was brought up in pieces
from Kashmir on coolies' backs at a cost of four hundred rupees, was
dashed to pieces!
A halt for Sunday in an apricot grove in the pleasant village of Sati
refreshed us all for the long marches which followed, by which we
crossed the Sasir Pass, full of difficulties from snow and glaciers,
which extend for many miles, to the Dipsang Plain, the bleakest and
dreariest of Central Asian wastes, from which the gentle ascent of
the Karakorum Pass rises, and returned, varying our route slightly,
to the pleasant villages of the Nubra valley. Everywhere Mr.
Redslob's Tibetan scholarship, his old-world courtesy, his kindness
and adaptability, and his medical skill, ensured us a welcome the
heartiness of which I cannot describe. The headmen and elders of the
villages came to meet us when we arrived, and escorted us when we
left; the monasteries and houses with the best they contained were
thrown open to us; the men sat round our camp-fires at night, telling
stories and local gossip, and asking questions, everything being
translated to me by my kind guide, and so we actually lived 'among
the Tibetans.'
CHAPTER III - NUBRA
In order to visit Lower Nubra and return to Leh we were obliged to
cross the great fords of the Shayok at the most dangerous season of
the year. This transit had been the bugbear of the journey ever
since news reached us of the destruction of the Sati scow. Mr.
Redslob questioned every man we met on the subject, solemn and noisy
conclaves were held upon it round the camp-fires, it was said that
the 'European woman' and her 'spider-legged horse' could never get
across, and for days before we reached the stream, the chupas, or
government water-guides, made nightly reports to the village headmen
of the state of the waters, which were steadily rising, the final
verdict being that they were only just practicable for strong horses.
To delay till the waters fell was impossible. Mr. Redslob had
engagements in Leh, and I was already somewhat late for the passage
of the lofty passes between Tibet and British India before the
winter, so we decided on crossing with every precaution which
experience could suggest.
At Lagshung, the evening before, the Tibetans made prayers and
offerings for a day cloudy enough to keep the water down, but in the
morning from a cloudless sky a scintillating sun blazed down like a
magnesium light, and every glacier and snowfield sent its tribute
torrent to the Shayok. In crossing a stretch of white sand the solar
heat was so fierce that our European skins were blistered through our
clothing. We halted at Lagshung, at the house of a friendly
zemindar, who pressed upon me the loan of a big Yarkand horse for the
ford, a kindness which nearly proved fatal; and then by shingle paths
through lacerating thickets of the horrid Hippophae rhamnoides, we
reached a chod-ten on the shingly bank of the river, where the
Tibetans renewed their prayers and offerings, and the final orders
for the crossing were issued. We had twelve horses, carrying only
quarter loads each, all led; the servants were mounted, 'water-
guides' with ten-foot poles sounded the river ahead, one led Mr.
Redslob's horse (the rider being bare-legged) in front of mine with a
long rope, and two more led mine, while the gopas of three villages
and the zemindar steadied my horse against the stream. The water-
guides only wore girdles, and with elf-locks and pig-tails streaming
from their heads, and their uncouth yells and wild gesticulations,
they looked true river-demons.
The Shayok presented an expanse of eight branches and a main stream,
divided by shallows and shingle banks, the whole a mile and a half in
width. On the brink the chupas made us all drink good draughts of
the turbid river water, 'to prevent giddiness,' they said, and they
added that I must not think them rude if they dashed water at my face
frequently with the same object. Hassan Khan, and Mando, who was
livid with fright, wore dark-green goggles, that they might not see
the rapids. In the second branch the water reached the horses'
bodies, and my animal tottered and swerved. There were bursts of
wild laughter, not merriment but excitement, accompanied by yells as
the streams grew fiercer, a loud chorus of Kabadar! Sharbaz!
('Caution!' 'Well done!') was yelled to encourage the horses, and the
boom and hiss of the Shayok made a wild accompaniment. Gyalpo, for
whose legs of steel I longed, frolicked as usual, making mirthful
lunges at his leader when the pair halted. Hassan Khan, in the
deepest branch, shakily said to me, 'I not afraid, Mem Sahib.'
During the hour spent in crossing the eight branches, I thought that
the risk had been exaggerated, and that giddiness was the chief
peril.
But when we halted, cold and dripping, on the shingle bank of the
main stream I changed my mind. A deep, fierce, swirling rapid, with
a calmer depth below its farther bank, and fully a quarter of a mile
wide, was yet to be crossed. The business was serious. All the
chupas went up and down, sounding, long before they found a possible
passage. All loads were raised higher, the men roped their soaked
clothing on their shoulders, water was dashed repeatedly at our
faces, girths were tightened, and then, with shouts and yells, the
whole caravan plunged into deep water, strong, and almost ice-cold.
Half an hour was spent in that devious ford, without any apparent
progress, for in the dizzy swirl the horses simply seemed treading
the water backwards.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 12 of 27
Words from 11294 to 12293
of 27584
